Tour The Prison: Intake

If you're alive, you have breath and a heartbeat. If that breath has ever been taken away or that heart has ever stopped, even for a moment, you have a testimony.  Our lives are filled with moments of pain or decisions that clear us of everything we always believed we were and leave us with the shell of who we thought we were.

When I was nine years old I was living in Memphis, Tennessee and going to an all black school where I was the minority.  Having never noticed the difference between people, I paid no mind and tried my best to make friends anyway.  I had a girl in my class, Andrea, that had it out for me, and I'll never understand why.  She and her friends would tease and torment me in class and I tried to ignore them.  One day after school I was heading to the spot to meet my brother and other kids we walked home together with when the books and papers currently in my hands went flying in the air and landed scattered on the floor.  As I hurriedly bent to scoop them up, Andrea and her friends were kicking at me and teasing me, and I took off running with them trailing close behind.  I passed the spot where I was to meet everyone and I didn't stop running.  Raleigh Egypt Elementary was very close to the high school and we had to pass the track to get home. Oftentimes on hot days, our parents would take us out there in the evening to play around. As I continued my escape my side started to hurt and I was nearing the track, so I slowed down, let my backpack fall and bent over to catch my breath.

I never saw them coming.  I never knew that a fraction of a second of not being aware could change your life forever. The next thing I know my things are being taken from me and I'm slammed against a hot brick wall by two black male high school students.  I was held there by my hair while they both raped me, with their girlfriends sitting on the bleachers casually flipping through magazines.  I know what it's like to choke on your own vomit and scream out in pain and fear and not have anyone hear you because your voice is barely audible.  It's been twenty-two years and I can still smell the fresh cut grass, feel the heat of the brick on my back and smell the sweat of their bodies so much so that it causes me to gag. 

Once my mouth was uncovered, I begged them to let me go because my brother and friends would be by soon, and just when I thought my life was over and hell would be where I remained, a look of sincerity crossed one of their faces and he handed me my backpack.  I ran.  I ran like my life depended it, and I barely beat everyone home.  I went straight to the bathroom, cried, tried to figure out what had just happened, and told my Mom that I had gotten in a fight. My friends backed that up because they saw Andrea and her friends chasing me. 

We never walked to school alone again.

Tour The Prison

I have decided it is high time to start giving my testimony. Therefore, if you're reading this, you are looking directly into my soul.  Some of it may shock you, some of it may make you angry, hurt or sad, but nevertheless, this is me, and this is my story. I am not looking for opinions, I am just looking to share all I have gone through over the past few decades of my life. My prayer is that it touches someone's heart, because I know I am here for a purpose.

Before I started recovery, I was writing in my journal one night and I traced my hands. Inside of them I wrote, "Someday these hands will touch the lives of many." And I pray that happens.

God Bless,
Chele